


Breaking the Silence

by CrimsonRhage



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Harry, Mentor Severus Snape, Mute Harry, No romantic pairings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-10-08 01:52:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimsonRhage/pseuds/CrimsonRhage
Summary: Harry learned many rules growing up. Above all else he learned that the world did not want to hear him speak, so he decided to not waste his time doing so. When the young boy-who-lived makes it to Hogwarts will the resident Potion's Master be able to look past his own preconceived notions to break past Harry's self-induced silence?





	1. The Rules

Harry Potter was an unusual child. He would argue that he grew up in unusual circumstances and that he was normal for those conditions. Harry spent his childhood observing, copying, and learning. It was through a series of events that he learned the rules.

His cousin Dudley screamed and threw a tantrum when he wasn’t given the toy that he wanted. This resulted in him receiving _two_ toys from Aunt Petunia. Harry didn’t receive any dinner. He screamed and threw a tantrum. The result was twenty lashes from his Uncle’s belt and the lack of food for a week.

_Rule 1. Not everybody is equal. Equal actions do not cause equal reactions._

Harry brought home his first report card, full of little plus marks and check marks to show that he was excelling in everything they had done. He was promptly beaten and yelled at for daring to show up their precious Duddykins by cheating and using his freakishness to make his cousin fail. Harry brought his second report card home, full of minuses and empty boxes to show that he failed on nearly everything they had done. He was promptly beaten for being a lazy no good freak that was reflecting poorly on his wonderful and generous Aunt and Uncle. After that he always achieved the best marks he could achieve and accepted the beatings as a given.

_Rule 2. There is no correct solution, only the one with the least amount of negatives._

Harry ran across the playground, trying to escape Dudley and his gang before they could grab him and use him as their own personal punching bag. He was not fast enough. By time he was able to pull himself off the ground and limp his way to class he was late. When the teacher yelled at him he tried to explain that he was attack by his cousin and the other boys. Dudley explained to his teacher, and later to his father, that while they were innocently playing Harry tried to attack them but when they dodged Harry fell to the ground, resulting in his injuries. Harry received two punishments that day, one from his teacher for being a liar and one from his Uncle.

_Rule 3. The truth is arbitrary. Truth or lie does not matter, only what the other person perceives to be right matters._

Aunt Petunia had the neighbor ladies over for tea so they could all gossip together. When Harry came inside after finishing his outdoor chores with several bruises showing on his arms and a black eye the ladies were quite shocked and concerned. Petunia was quick to tell them about her problem nephew who always got into fights with kids on the street. How the boys’ parents where drunkards. The only reason she left out the usual line about his whore of a mother was because she did not want them thinking too bad of her through association. She then went on about how they took the boy in and did their best for him despite him following after his parents. How she was at her wits end on how to correct the boy of his degenerate lifestyle. By the end all the women were comforting Petunia while shooting dirty glares in the direction the boy had gone. A part of them was ashamed that they for an instant thought that there was something bad going on in this house when Petunia was so kind and generous to take in her nephew despite him being a problem child.

_Rule 4. A beautiful lie is far more believable than the ugly truth._

All of these rules accumulated into what he considered his golden rules of life.

**Do not trust adults. They do not care. They will not help, especially if you are not their own child.**

**Pain is as much a fact of life as breathing. There is no point in trying to fight it. No point in trying to escape. Both will only lead to greater pain.**

Then, there was the most important rule.

**Words are useless. They lead to pain and suffering. Do. Not. Speak.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone. This is a new story idea that I am testing out. It has been rattling around in my mind for quite a while now. In this Harry will be a Slytherin and fairly OP, although in a more passive way at the beginning. Harry and Severus will (eventually) form a mentor bond as Severus works to break Harry's self imposed silence.


	2. The Curiosity of Magic

Harry found Magic to be rather… curious. For a long time he didn’t know what made him so different from his cousin. He wasn’t sure why rule number one applied to him when it didn’t seem to have such a large effect on other people. At first he thought his differences were because Harry was not their son, only their nephew, and this is what caused his Aunt and Uncle to treat the two boys so differently. That theory was blown apart when Dudley had some of his friends over and they were treated similar to Dudley despite not being related to the Dursley’s in any way.

When strange things started occurring around Harry, things that didn't occur to other people, he began to understand more. Broken bones would heal overnight (not perfectly, mind you), his hair would regrow after his Aunt sheared it off, appearing on the school roof when he wanted to be somewhere safe.

It was this last experience that intrigued Harry the most. When thinking of somewhere safe he most certainly _did not_ consider the roof as a viable option. It wasn’t even the barest thought in his mind. He couldn’t deny, as he sat on top and looked down at his confused cousin, that it was indeed a great place where no one could get to him. And it was this experience that made Harry decide that magic was curious.

Magic seemed to be a self-aware force, something that watched over him and protected him as he needed, like a guardian angel. He had no thought about hiding on the school roof, or any roof for that matter. Yet magic still decided that was the best location to place him to keep him safe. It appeared to be something that acted on its own with no thought or direction from Harry himself.

As he pondered more on it, he considered another option. Could it be that magic was so instinctive, so intrinsic to who he was, that he was capable of these feats without being consciously aware that he was doing so? If that was the case, what could he do while consciously controlling this force when unconsciously he was already accomplishing such powerful actions?

This is what lead Harry to sitting in his pitch-black cupboard late one night after his relatives went to bed while trying to convince himself that his life would end if he didn’t produce a ball of light over his hand. Every unconscious act of magic before had been to save him, so all he had to do was convince himself so absolutely that he was in another such situation. He _knew_ that if he didn’t produce a light that the monster in the corner would attack him and kill him. _Only_ if he had a light would he be able to scare away the beast that was getting steadily closer and stalking him like prey. He let fear consume him as his heart rate sped up and triggered his natural fight or flight response, because if he did not get a light in the next five seconds he would die!

For the first time Harry felt a tugging in his abdomen, like something was being pulled up and through his arms, leaving his body, and finally coalescing into a bright ball of light sitting over his palm. Harry marveled at his success before he could feel something snap as that same feeling of motion rushed back down to settle once more in his abdomen.

It was enough, however. Harry had proof of his magic. Proof that he could control what was previously unconscious actions. Beyond that, he had something new to study while he was locked away in this little cupboard. So he began what he later would know to be meditation as he worked to find that ball of magic in his abdomen and started to pull it to the surface of the body. Eventually, he would work up to sending it outside of his body to do as he wished. So he diligently worked, always in secret, always in silence.


	3. A Time of Discovery

Time moved on, as it is ought to do, and Harry learned and grew. He discovered many new rules centered around his magic.

_Rule M-1. Magic is a form of energy. Using it expends energy, which is translated into physical exhaustion._

His Aunt and Uncle were not amused when he discovered this one night and was unable to gather the energy to complete his chore list the next day. Still, his magic was able to heal him that night despite the previous exhaustion. This rule, he quickly found, was countered by another.

_Rule M-2. The more magic is used, the easier it is to use the next time._

Harry couldn’t decide if his magic was more like a muscle, that grew stronger after consecutive workouts, or more like a nerve pathway, wherein the more it was used, the faster the connections could be accessed the next time. In the end, he decided to go with the nerve pathway. He used this idea as the basis of his mental image of his magic.

The source of his magic, his core, was like the brain, the control center. It is where his magic was stored. From there, “nerves” connected his core to the output source. At the moment, it was his hand, but he had plans to change that. When he first started, his magic was sluggish, barely moving through these pathways to his hand where he could then direct it as wished. The more he practiced, though, the quicker his magic responded and he could feel the difference in speed as it raced from his core to his hand.

He worked hard with this mental image to envision these pathways traveling to both hands, equally mirrored on either side of his body. Why rely on only one hand when he could use both?

As for what he could do with his magic, it seemed limitless as long as he had the necessary amount to accomplish his goal. He of course, started off with what he determined to be easy tasks – creating a small ball of light, lifting the lighter objects in his cupboard – before he moved onto the slightly more complex. He found he could undo the lock on his cupboard and cut blades of grass or other weeds in half.

Despite this, he still found another rule that he was not content with.

_Rule M-3. Instinctive acts of magic are more powerful than conscious acts of magic._

He spent many weeks, months even, pondering on this rule. He was able to achieve small tasks with his magic, but anything more lead to exhaustion. However, unconsciously he would heal himself over night or even teleport to a safe location. He could not attain either of these with conscious effort. It led to exhaustion every time before anything truly happened. And yet, he was capable of it. Rule M-3 seemed to break M-1. It was rule M-2 that gave him the answers he was seeking.

_The more magic is used, the easier it is to use the next time._

He had been healing himself for a long time, for as long as he could remember. It was also true that the injuries that had to be healed increased over time. His magic did not have to heal broken bones or concussions for the first several years of life within this house. No, his pain started with bruises, sprained ligaments, and small abrasions. Then it had moved into burns and torn muscles before finally escalating to broken bones and internal injuries. His magic had time to grow into the tasks. Somewhere, in his body were those pathways for his magic connecting to what had to be every part of his body for it to be able to heal him. It was simply that he was not aware of them yet. All he had to do was find them.

Harry spent the next year of his life searching for these pathways. He had already unconsciously made a network of pathways through his whole body, there was no reason to recreate them as he had planned on doing.

Despite these discoveries, life moved on in the Dursley household as it always had. In general, the rest of the residents accepted that Harry was silent. Occasionally his Uncle would punish him for not responding. Harry knew that if he did speak the punishment would not change and so kept his silence. Other times, when his Uncle was especially drunk or had an especially bad day, he went out of his way to try to make his nephew scream and break the pervasive silence, only giving into defeat when the boy was unconscious or his arm grew tired.

At school he continued to be advanced for his age. Several teachers tried to get him to speak as well. However, after two years of silence the entire school accepted that the Potter boy did not speak. After that each new teacher left him alone, allowing him to turn in all required work but not bothering to ask him questions in class. Harry enjoyed this system. It gave him plenty of time to work on his own interests. He spent a great deal of free time in the library. For a while he looked at anatomy texts, very interested in his ideas of magic being like muscles or nerves. He used the diagrams to increase his mental image of his body as his magic ran through it. This of course led to another rule.

_Rule M-4. Visualization is the key to magic._

He had to visualize the magic running through his body, see it move through the pathways he created as it left his body to then go on and enact the change that he wanted.

Finally, after many years of studying and practice, ten-year-old Harry Potter accessed the network of pathways throughout his body that his magic had built up over the course of his life. The sheer number of possibilities this opened up was astonishing. However, one idea caught and held his attention above all others.

**Pain is as much a fact of life as breathing. There is no point in trying to fight it. No point in trying to escape. Both will only lead to greater pain.**

This was one of his golden rules. He knew that it was pointless to try and escape the pain with the use of his magic. Even if his Uncle could not punish him physically, Harry understood that there were plenty of other ways he could be punished. Even the effort would inevitably lead to more pain. What if, instead of completely stopping it, he could buffer the pain? Reduce its impact?

His very first idea was a bubble of magic that surrounded him and kept other things out. This was quickly discarded. Uncle Vernon would not be pleased if he could not reach Harry. His next idea was more devious, or more logical as Harry insisted. His Aunt and Uncle were already used to the fact that Harry would be healed of his worst injuries from a beating by the next morning. He was sure the only reason he wasn’t punished for these instances of ‘freakishness’ was because it allowed him to complete the endless list of chores despite how badly he was punished the day before. What if he could circumvent the middle process?

Was it possible to give the appearance of being injured yet not take the full brunt of the punishment? In this way he would not need to heal any major injuries over night and hopefully not have his Uncle punish him worse for any use of magic.

The answer came from an engineering book on cars. A shock absorber, something that would take and dissipate part of the incoming energy but wouldn’t block it completely. That was what he needed his magic to emulate. So, like every other project he set his mind to, Harry focused on this one task; meditated and visualized what he needed.

Carefully he pooled a thin layer of his magic across hiss body, making it slightly thicker at critical points such as his neck, spine, kidneys, and liver. He imagined this layer of magic to be a layer of padding that would absorb some of the energy from each punch, kick, or lash his Uncle threw his way, so that his body underneath only took a small amount of the damage. He was still bruised. He was still in pain. And most importantly, his Uncle was still satisfied.

As with the rest of his magic, he found this layer to be quite tiring. Initially, he could only put it up for the duration of the punishment. Each day he practiced more and more until he could hold up his shock absorber for the entire day.

In this way life continued on. He woke up early, made breakfast for the rest of the household, cleaned the kitchen, and went to school. He worked in silence, only interacting with the teacher when he had assignments to turn in. He returned to the house and was punished for whatever supposed slight Dudley came up with that day before being given his chore list. He mechanically completed the chores in silence before cooking the evening meal and receiving whatever sustenance his Aunt decided to give him. After the meal and final cleanup of the kitchen his Uncle would punish him for any failures throughout the day, whether they belonged to Harry or Vernon was inconsequential. If Harry was conscious by the end, he would clean whatever mess his punishment caused, be it spilled blood on the kitchen floor or the table and chairs moved from their rightful place. With the daily rituals completed Harry would be sent to his cupboard where he was free to practice his magic before he fell asleep to rest for another day in the Dursley household.

And so life continued on and days blurred together in their uniformity. Until, one day, they did not.


	4. Shattered Peace

The day started like any other. The fact that it was July 31st had no impact on Harry. His relatives had never once celebrated his birthday. They went so far as to never tell him when it was and it wasn’t as if he was going to ask them. No, in the Dursley household it was an accepted truth that Harry simply did not have a birthday. The fact that he did not have a Christmas or an Easter either was similarly overlooked.

As every morning Harry woke early to begin on breakfast for the other three residents of the household. He used this time when he was the only one awake to practice his magic. He worked to lighten the heavy pots and pans and the stacks of food he carried as well as cooled the handles of the hot metal pans so his hands wouldn’t burn. He found these to be perfect for practicing his control. He couldn’t simply float the items to him or above his hands, that would be far too inconspicuous, especially when Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon could walk into the kitchen at any time. Instead he practiced on making the items lighter. The same was true with the pans. He didn’t want to cool down the full pan or the food within, so he had to focus and control his magic to just act on where he was holding the handle.

Once Aunt Petunia came downstairs Harry focused solely on cooking and stopped all magic. The risk of punishment was not worth the practice, not when he had plenty of other opportunities throughout the day. Food was served to the adults while Harry cleaned what he could. With Dudley still asleep, supposedly deserving his well-earned rest after working so hard during the school year, Harry couldn’t wash all the pans as he would have to cook more later anyways.

With those chores done Harry next went to the front door to pick up the pile of mail and dutifully placed it next to his Uncle before moving back and silently waiting against the wall to wait for his chore list for the day. He kept his eyes on the floor, not wanting to be punished for ‘staring at his betters with his freakish eyes’. When Uncle Vernon started choking and Aunt Petunia gave a muffled scream Harry almost – almost – looked up, but in the end he had himself too well trained for that. It wouldn’t be the first time he was tricked into earning a punishment. No, he kept his eyes firmly on the ground and his body relaxed so he wouldn’t appear to be eavesdropping.

“Boy! Get in your cupboard and don’t come out until you are told otherwise!” barked Uncle Vernon in that tone of voice that said he was barely restraining himself from beating his nephew. With no hesitation Harry darted for the hallway and quickly slipped inside. Now this was _not_ a part of the normal routine.

Not knowing what would happen Harry did what he always did when he was alone in his cupboard; practiced magic. He settled himself to sending his magic to different parts of his body, but not actively using it, just hovering slightly before returning to his core. He started with his hand, before concentrating to just a single finger. Once he went through each finger, he repeated the same process with his left hand. Then he moved to each foot and all of his toes before moving onto the rest of his body, completely unaware of the plotting occurring in the kitchen.

* * *

 

“How dare the freaks send him an invitation to their school! I won’t have it. I refuse to let the boy run off and learn to be even more of a freak!” Vernon ranted with his face flushed red in anger. Only the fact the his son was still asleep and he didn’t want the boy to hear the conversation kept his voice at a hissed whisper.

“Oh Vernon, what are we going to do? I don’t want my precious Diddykins to be exposed to _them_. I don’t want him to ever know about that world. But you know they are going to come for the brat and with _that_ power we won’t be able to stop it,” fretted Petunia while wringing her hands nervously. As much as she hated them, she knew she was powerless against them.

Vernon’s hands crumpled the fine parchment as his face turned even more purple. The room was silent except for the obese man’s heavy pants of breath. Then, Vernon turned beady eyes to the parchment his fist and his lips twitched up into a twisted smirk.

“They want a response from the freak, well, let’s give them one. Let the freak refuse their offer of schooling with his own hand.”

Petunia smirked as well at the idea. Yes, it was perfect and so nicely ironic. If the freaks still came, then they could pretend ignorance and say it must be a prank from the troublesome boy. They would see him as the troublemaker he was. Yes, perfect indeed.

* * *

 

Harry did not trust the evil grin or the sick delight in Uncle Vernon’s eyes when he opened the cupboard door and ordered Harry into the kitchen. Still, he followed obediently with his eyes downcast, wondering what new torture he would be facing. He was pushed against the table where a plain piece of paper and a pen was lying, looking far too innocent for the situation.

“You will write the words I tell you to, boy, and then you will get started with your chores. Oh, and don’t think you will get out of being punished for lazing about on your bed.” Uncle Vernon snarled nastily.

Harry didn’t even twitch at the pronouncement, far too used to the unfair punishments. Besides, the worst of it was taken by his magic. The bruises and cuts he could easily live with. His only action was to pick up the pen and patiently wait for what he was to write. Not even the words, once spoken, caused him to react. He dutifully wrote what he was commanded to and stored the information away for later analysis.

As soon as the last letter was written the paper was snatched from beneath the pen by Aunt Petunia before he was given his list of chores and cuffed on the back of the head for not having already started them. Still, the strange events tumbled through his mind as he worked, especially the letter he was made to write.

 

_I decline the offer of admission to your school. Please do not contact me again._

_Harry Potter_

* * *

 

Three days passed in relative normality in the Dursley household. However, that shattered on the fourth day just after breakfast with an impatient knock on the front door. Harry obediently opened the door to find a tall man dressed in black slacks and a black, long-sleeved, button-down shirt. Black seemed to be the theme of the man with shoulder length black hair and piercing black eyes that immediately glared down at Harry.

“Potter, go fetch your guardians. I have no time to waste,” he sneered down in dark voice. Harry immediately went towards the kitchen while pondering this new event. The man knew his name, yet Harry was sure they had never met before. Once in the kitchen, he pointed to the door to show that they were needed. Uncle Vernon laboriously pushed himself up before plastering his standard polite smile on and going to the door.

Reluctantly, Harry continued washing the dishes under Aunt Petunia’s stern stare, the noise of the water running drowning out the conversation occurring in the other room. He was able to finish three more pans before a loud yell interrupted him once more.

“Boy, get in here right now!” Harry quickly dried his hands before running back into the living room. Uncle Vernon looked angry, but Harry could see the sick amusement in his eyes. The other man still had a sneer on his face, but he also appeared slightly amused.

“How dare you send a prank reply for your offer of admissions without even showing your Aunt or myself! We raised you better than that, boy! You will be attending and you will not receive any special considerations no matter how hard you try. Now, you are going to go with the Professor here to pick up your school supplies and you better not give him any back talk. I don’t know where we went wrong with you, boy, but you will straighten up immediately!”

Harry stayed silent with his head bowed, used to the blame falling on himself for something he didn’t do. He was however, beginning to see the link of what happened on the 31st. He wrote a letter declining admission to a school and three days later a Professor was present intent on making him go anyways, which was rather strange behavior for a school. He wondered if they came to confirm the accuracy of the letter or to try to convince his guardians otherwise. Clearly, Uncle Vernon claimed no knowledge of the reply.

“Let’s go, Potter. My time is valuable, and I do not intend to waste my entire day babysitting you.”

With a last glance towards Uncle Vernon, he stepped outside to follow the Professor. If he was supposed to get school supplies, then how was he going to pay for it? Did the school pay for supplies? That would explain why the professor was there. The possibility of the Dursleys paying didn’t even cross his mind.

With thoughts whirling in his mind, Harry silently walked behind the Professor, having to almost jog to keep up. When they reached the park the man looked around quickly before sharply grabbing Harry’s shoulder. The world _twisted_. Everything felt compressed, twisting, he couldn’t breathe, and then suddenly, it was all over. With a thud they landed in an alcove in the middle of a busy street.

Harry’s keen eyes immediately took in everything he could see and noted how extraordinarily different everything was. This was no modern city street. Instead it appeared to be something straight out of the olden-days with the cobblestone path and quaint shops. Words quickly flashed through his mind; cauldron shop, self-stirring, apothecary, spell books, charms.

Suddenly, everything came together. It all made sense. When he was first forced to write that letter, declining admission to a school, Harry’s first thought was that he had been accepted into an advanced secondary school. Of course, he would never be allowed to attend something that put him in a better light than his cousin. Still, it hadn’t mattered because Harry knew he would be successful no matter what school he was sent to. However, there was no possibility that Uncle Vernon would have given in and allowed him to go. It was simply impossible.

Now, Harry was faced with a much different reality. The Professor had just transported them from the park in his neighborhood to this street. The man had used _magic_. Looking around, it was undeniable that he was standing within a magical street. He wasn’t alone! There were other’s that had magic as well. Then his mind went to the next obvious conclusion. He was accepted to a magical school. Uncle Vernon tried to stop his attending, but the school somehow forced the issue. Finally, there was the third obvious conclusion. Both Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia _knew_ about magic. They _knew_ he would be accepted to a school that would teach him about magic and they had tried to keep him away from it.

Before he could decide how he felt about these revelations, the hand on his shoulder quickly dragged him away from the alcove and further down to a different nook between two buildings. Harry had to control his expression into his carefully blank mask before he dropped his eyes down once more. The professor was no longer wearing slacks and button-down shirt. Instead, he was in a high neck, black robe, that buttoned to his waste before flaring out and going all the way to the ground. He kept this show of magic in the back of his mind as an idea to practice with. He had never thought of changing his clothing to look like something else.

“Listen up, Potter, I am not going to repeat myself. Just because you thought you could get special treatment and have the school currying to your needs does not mean I have to waste my day doing so.” Harry silently listened, hoping to get more information about what exactly was occurring. The man began to pull different items out of his cloak pocket and shoving them into Harry’s hands. “Here is your Gringotts key. Go to the bank and withdraw money from your vault for your purchases. If you take too much out and get robbed, it is not my fault. This is your school list and I expect you to purchase everything on it. If you miss anything then you will suffer the consequences. Believe me, not having books or parchment will not be an excuse to not complete your homework. Finally, here is a map of the alley. With it you have no excuse for getting lost or failing to find an item on your list. I expect you at this exact spot at 4 p.m. and not a second later. There will be dire consequences if you make me go search for you.” Suddenly the man held a stick out, pointing it at Harry’s head. With a muttered word, Harry could feel the foreign magic layer on top of his forehead, right where his scar was. It was not a pleasant feeling.

“There, now you can’t use your scar to swindle the businesses out of their earnings. You will pay for your supplies just like everyone else, I don’t care how famous you think you are,” and without a second glance the Professor stalked away with robes billowing, leaving Harry alone to wonder at this new world he was dropped into.


	5. A Venture into Gringotts

 There were so many observations and questions clamoring for attention. To most, it would be completely overwhelming. Harry took a moment to mentally step back, take a deep breath, and do what he did best; observe, copy, and learn. First, his observations.

  1. There is a community of those that can use magic… mages? Magicians? Wizards?


  1. His Aunt and Uncle knew about the above fact but tried to keep him from finding out.


  1. He was given a key that supposedly was for his vault in a magical bank. Who had the key before? What was in his vault?


  1. He was given a letter and a map, both unobserved at this point in time along with instructions to purchase his school supplies.


  1. He was famous? What did he do to attain such recognition? If he was famous, why had he never met anyone from the magical community before?



Next, he quickly decided on what solutions he could come up with.

  1. There is nothing to be done at this point in time other than observe those around him. He should be able to learn about this community throughout his day although a book store could prove useful depending on his money situation and time.


  1. There was nothing he could do.


  1. He obviously needed to head to the bank as his first step to determine if he had enough money to purchase the needed supplies.


  1. The letter and map should provide valuable information, hopefully including the location of the bank.


  1. Research would be required, most likely at the book store and potentially through old newspaper articles. However, at the moment he did not have access to those. Listening to those around him could also prove useful as the potential for gossip was quite large.



With that decided Harry put the key in his pocket and turned his attention to the thick envelope. He took notice of the use of parchment instead of paper but stored the thought away for future inspection. The first sheet he pulled out was a rather standard letter of admission to the school, apparently named Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That at least answered what magic users were referred as. The second sheet, though, was what truly interested Harry.

Written out in three columns were the school supplies in the first, the general price range of each item from used to top of the line in the second column, and the store in which they could be found in the third. At the bottom were two stores where used or discounted supplies could be found along with a note stating that first year supplies were slightly more expensive than those for subsequent years. In total, the price of supplies ranged from 50 to 300 galleons.

It was rather curious that each item could only be found at a single store and that there was minimal overlap. This again showed the magical world being in a previous time where stores and craftsman still specialized in one field instead of the mass production and generalized stores that could be found in the non-magical world. Then again, it could simply be this one street that he was brought to, Diagon Alley according to the letter, and was not a true representation of the full magical community. Besides, he still did not know how large said community was. He would need more evidence to come to a conclusion.

Next his attention turned to the map he was given. At first glance it was just a basic outline of the buildings within the alley along with a list of the business’s names on one side. He found it strange that the buildings were not labeled. Clearly, something else must happen because as is the map was not helpful. On the buildings list was ‘Gringotts Wizarding Bank’ which matched with what he was told about his bank key. Idly, he brushed a finger across the name before jerking back in shock. Suddenly, a bright red line created a path through the map that lead to a building that was also highlighted in red! Curios now Harry looked at the shop across the street from the alcove he was standing in and took note of the name ‘Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour’ and quickly found the name on the map. Again, he brushed his finger over the map and found a new, much shorter path from one side of the street to the other.

This magic was unlike anything he had ever contemplated. His magic was contained within his body and he used it to interact with the world around him. Never before had he considered turning an object magical. Harry forcefully pushed the idea to the back of his mind. He had a time limit with many other more important tasks to complete. Once he was tucked away in his cupboard, he could think on it more.

There was only one more consideration before he could set off to the bank; his clothes. Dressed as he was in Dudley’s too large cast-offs he stood out in the surrounding crowd, something that he was loath to do.

_Rule 5. Being the center of attention will only lead to pain. Keep to the background as much as possible._

The Professor that brought him here used magic to change his clothes, so clearly it was possible. With that in mind Harry looked into the crowd to observe those around him for ideas. Finally, his eyes landed on another boy that appeared to be similar in age as himself. The boy was wearing simple black slacks, an emerald green button up shirt, and a black cloak with emerald green piping along the sides. The shirt and slacks should be easy enough to recreate, although he decided not to attempt the cloak. He could easily visualize his own shirt and pants changing, but where would the cloak come from? If he had a jacket he could change that, but otherwise he did not think it possible, at least with what he could currently accomplish.

With eyes closed and the image of the desired clothing firmly in his mind, Harry sent his magic out to infuse with his clothing, visualizing the changes that he wanted to occur. The feel of his clothing becoming tighter made him open his eyes, only to smile slightly at his success. This was also stored as a future topic to look into.

Feeling more confident that he would not stand out in the crowds, Harry changed the map to lead to the bank once more and stepped out into the main street. He was happy to see that the line on the map shortened as he walked. Somehow, the position of the parchment within the alley was linked to show on the map. It was rather ingenious and the magic that created it would definitely deserve closer inspection when he was able.

As Harry walked through the alley he observed everything around him, the shops he passed, the items in the windows, conversations of both the adults and the children surrounding him. He learned that the alley was busier than normal due to a large number of families picking up their Hogwarts supplies. Was there only one school for the full magical community? Did other countries have their own magical schools? In the end, he was led back to the same question; how large was the magical community?

Accepting that he wouldn’t be able to answer those questions for the foreseeable future, Harry continued to the bank. The large, marble building stood out when compared to the surrounding shops. Harry took a moment to observe the building and what appeared to be guards that were standing outside of its doors with spears in one hand while he could see an axe and daggers tucked away as well. The guards certainly were not human, but other than that Harry could not identify what they were. Were these creatures used as guards throughout the magical community? Were there other magical creatures like those in myths and legends?

Cautiously, he made his way up the steps and past the heavily armed creatures, acutely aware of the damage they could do with any one of the weapons they carried. His eyes were carefully cast downwards, not wanting to offend them as he made his way into the bank. Once inside he quickly stepped to the side and stood unobtrusively against the wall to observe those around him.

The interior was just as grand as the exterior, however it was the creatures that sat behind the many counters that immediately caught his attention. It appeared these creatures worked at the bank, although if they ran it completely or worked under the humans was yet to be seen. Were there multiple species of intelligent, magical creatures? Did they have the same rights as human magicals? Was discrimination as prevalent here as it was in the non-magical world?

Questions kept building up without receiving any answers. The book store might have to be his second destination so he could browse through the books and hopefully gain at least a brief understanding of this world. The clock on the wall indicated it was only ten in the morning, giving him six hours before the Professor would return to retrieve him.

Harry pushed the thoughts on his to-do list and returned to observing the bank. Behind the counters were guards, similar to those outside the door, that were interspersed along the back wall. The counters themselves were broken up into sections, each with a sign designating those tellers’ purposes. There was a section for withdrawals, deposits, exchanges, and vault inquiries.

In the withdrawals section, one of two actions appeared to occur. After a short conversation a vault key was handed over, inspected, and then returned to the owner. At this point either a pile of coins were handed over, occasionally held within a leather pouch, or another creature came over to escort the customer to a side door where they would disappear.

The deposits section appeared to be similar as a key was handed over and inspected before more coins would be transferred from the customer to the creature. Why only coins? Those customers that appeared to be carrying an item, however, were escorted to a side door as well. Were they being taken directly to their vault? Did the bank actually contain a vault for each of their customers? If so, those from the withdrawal lines that were being escorted to the side doors were most likely going to their vaults to retrieve items stored within.

His eyes turned to the exchange counters. These customers seemed to be lacking the cloaks and distinctly ‘magical’ style of clothing that he saw favored around the alley. It was possible that these were people who lived or worked in the non-magical community. They appeared to be handing over British pounds and notes and received back the same gold, silver, and bronze coins that the others were withdrawing or depositing. Clearly the magical community had a different monetary system than the non-magical community.

Finally, he turned his eyes to observe the vault inquiries line. After a short conversation, where a key was not always presented, the customer was either escorted through a different set of doors, or made to wait in a different section, notably lacking any chairs or other seating options, until a creature came out to escort them. Were there those that specialized with specific customer’s vaults that they were meeting with? It would explain why some were brought back immediately while some were made to wait.

Beyond these basic observations, Harry noted how the creatures were treated with fear or disdain. The sneers on the creatures faces were also obvious. It appeared that discrimination was a human trait, magical or not.

However, all of this led to a rather glaring problem. He had never been anywhere new without either Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon who were quick to tell the employees of their brain-damaged, mute nephew. The idea of breaking his golden rule did not cross his mind, only how he would get what he needed.

As Harry contemplated his options, he continued observing those around him. A man passed by him cursing about greedy goblins as he exited the bank, giving him his first clue as to the identity of the creatures within. The opening of a previously unused side door caught his attention as another creature, goblin, and a red headed man in a similar uniform stepped through. They had a brief conversation and then the red head bowed to the goblin with his right hand fisted over his heart before they went their separate ways.

“What are you doing over here, boy? We are not a babysitting service.” The growled question jerked Harry from his observations and he quickly turned to face the guard that approached him when his attention was elsewhere. He kept his eyes downturned, even as he wanted to keep his gaze trained on the sword the goblin was carrying, it being the most obvious threat. However, he did not want to appear rude and see what sort of punishments were allowed within the magical community. With this in mind, he very carefully placed his right hand over his heart and bowed as he saw the man do.

He heard the goblin gasp slightly before the question was re-worded. “Why have you spent five minutes standing here, child?”

Harry could hear the surprise in the gruff voice and he carefully stood upright while keeping a close eye on the guard. There was a look of open surprise and curiosity on the goblin’s face as where as before there was only anger. Hesitantly, he reached into his pocket to pull out the key and handed it over along with his Hogwart’s supply list while remaining tense. The key garnered intense scrutiny from the guard before he turned to look suspiciously at Harry once more, paying special attention to his forehead and the spot Harry knew his scar was located.

“Follow me,” commanded the goblin before he turned and made his way to a side door. Harry obediently followed, wondering what was going to happen. Was he going to be accused of stealing the key? Was it truly not his? What would these goblins do to him if that was the case? Harry wrapped his magic around him in his protective layer just in case. He had become strong enough to be able to sustain his shield for the full day if necessary.

He was brought through one of the doors and entered a branching hallway that contained closed doors every few meters. Every door was unmarked, perhaps as a way to confuse those that do not work at the bank? It would be an effective security measure. The validity of that thought increased as he was led through a maze of twisting hallways that appeared identical from the one he just came from. Were these the vaults, perhaps? Of course, there was the other possibility of them being offices.

The latter proved to be true as the guard finally stopped and knocked on one of the doors. A harsh voice called out to enter, a voice similar to that of the guard he was following. Within the room was an older goblin sitting behind a large desk with files stacked neatly across its surface. The walls were decorated with a variety of weapons, all appearing sharp and perfectly capable of being used at a moment’s notice.

The guard walked around the desk and whispered in the other’s ear while handing over Harry’s key and supply list. When the older goblin turned to observe Harry, he once more bowed as before since it seemed to garner a positive response, or at least, not a negative one. The room was silent for several seconds before the newest goblin spoke with a gravelly voice.

“Take a seat, young one. I am Gornuk, the account manager for the Potter vaults. Before we can allow you to access the vault this key belongs to, we must first verify your identity. There is a simple test that we provide that will show if there are any vaults within our bank that you have access to. If there is, you will be charged a fee of five galleons. If there are none, this fee is waived. All the test requires is three drops of blood on this parchment here.”

The goblin slid a blank piece of parchment along with a beautifully carved knife across his desk so it rested in front of Harry. He pondered his options instead of automatically obeying the unstated command. The goblin, Gornuk, stated that the fee would be waived if he did not have a vault. However, what if the vault he had access to was empty? He did not have any money to pay the fee if they enforced it. On the other hand, the professor seemed to expect for some reason that he had money waiting for him at the bank. Beyond that, Harry noted the plural when Gornuk mentioned the Potter vaults. The fact that there was an account manager at all suggested that there was at least one vault but most likely multiple. The real question was whether of not he had access to them.

If he refused the test than in all likelihood he would be forced from the bank, potentially painfully, and would have no money in which to buy any of his school supplies. If he did the test he would either be shown that he had no access to any of the vaults, leading right back to the first possibility, with a higher likelihood of pain, or he would be allowed to access a vault that would hopefully contain enough to cover his school supplies and potentially more than one vault.

_Rule 2. There is no correct solution, only the one with the least amount of negatives._

With that in mind Harry reached for the dagger while keeping both goblins in his line of sight in case he did something wrong. With easy efficiency he pressed the tip of the knife into his pinky finger on his left hand, not flinching in the slightest. After three drops of blood fell on the parchment he pulled his hand away so as to not risk any extra falling and ruining the test.

The cut was minor enough that he was not concerned about healing it at the current moment. He could easily wait until he was alone to do so. The knife, on the other hand, did have a drop of blood contaminating the tip. Harry was unsure if he would be punished for giving the knife back in its current state and did not want to risk it considering the number of weapons he was currently surrounded with. Harry ran a quick hand over the blade, his magic surging rapidly to clean it, before he placed it back on the desk and waited for whatever would happen next.

Gornuk took the parchment before chanting in a guttural language that seemed to match the goblins in nature. After one minute of chanting Harry could make out black writing beginning to form on the parchment. It took another 30 seconds before words stopped appearing and Gornuk fell silent while looking over the information on the paper. He seemed to nod to himself before handing the parchment out for Harry to take. Harry read it over quickly and could not help his open look of shock as he stared at the words before him. Surely, it was a joke.

 

 **Name** : Harry James Potter-Black

 **Date of Birth** : 31 July 1980

 **Birth Father** : James Charlus Potter

 **Birth Mother** : Lily Anne Potter née Evans

 **Blood Adopted Father** : Sirius Orion Black; 1 August 1980

 **Godfather** : Remus John Lupin

 **Godmother** : Alice Jane Longbottom née Fawley

 **Heir Status** :

Primary heir to the House of Potter

Secondary heir to the House of Black

 **Accessible Vaults** :

Harry Potter Trust Fund; 42,600 galleons

 **Accessible Vaults upon Majority** :

Potter Family Vaults

Black Family Vaults

 

“All seems to be in order, Heir Potter-Black. However, since neither you nor your current guardians have entered the bank previous to today there are a number of things that I must explain before you will be allowed to withdraw from your trust vault. The previous Lord Potter set your trust vault up with specific guide lines that must be followed. As is customary within the Potter family, a trust vault was opened upon your birth and a starting sum of 2,000 galleons was deposited. Due to the war, Lord Potter set up a contingency plan for your vault that was enacted upon his death. Currently, 4,000 galleons are deposited yearly into your account from the main Potter Family vault to be used expressly for your needs, including food, clothing, housing, and school supplies. These funds may be withdrawn by either yourself or your guardians, however, proof, in the form of receipts, that the purchases were related to your care must be provided before subsequent withdrawals are made. If proof is not provided, access to these galleons will be cut off until the debt is repaid. Beyond that, 50 galleons have been deposited on each of your birthdays, which has increased to 100 galleons upon your 11th birthday. This money you may spend however you wish. Access to the main Potter and Black vaults is cut off for both you and your guardians until you reach your majority.”

This was all said with quick efficiency and Harry tried to sort out what all information he could while his head was still spinning at learning how much money he had access to. While true that he did not know the conversion rate to British pounds, 42,600 still sounded like a great deal of money. It certainly covered his supplies cost, although he would have to be careful to keep all receipts for what he bought once he left the bank. Much of what else he read was stored away for later thought, especially his heir status and his blood-adopted father.

He looked up to Gornuk and nodded once, showing that he understood what he was told.

“Very well then, Heir Potter-Black. Since you are a minor you must fill out this withdrawal form stating how much you wish to withdrawal and a brief explanation as to its purpose, which can be as brief as ‘school supplies’ or ‘spending money’,” stated Gornuk as he passed over a form as well as a feather quill.

Harry stared at the quill for a moment, because honestly, it was a feather quill! This was more proof that the magical world operated from an age older than that in the non-magical world. It was rather curious and begged the question; why? Focusing back on the quill he touched his finger to the tip and came away with black ink on his finger. Pleased with this result, he clumsily filled out the form, writing in ‘Harry Potter Trust Vault’ into the vault name and requesting 500 galleons for school supplies and books as well as 50 galleons for spending money. Hopefully, he would have time to deposit back any extra before the professor returned. Further down on the form was a section for conversion to pounds. Harry figured it was a good idea to exchange the required number of galleons into £200 so that he could hopefully purchase new clothes. He finished with a messy signature and checking a box for the money to be held within a leather pouch, for a fee of five galleons, before handing the form back to the goblin while noting that he would have to practice with a quill before the school year began.

Gornuk took the completed form and briefly looked it over before adding his own signature.

“If that is all, Heir Potter-Black, then Griphook here will escort you back out to the main lobby. Give this form to any teller at the Exchange counter and they will provide you with the requested galleons and pounds.”

Sensing the dismissal, Harry stood and gathered up his key, school supply list, identity verification, and withdrawal form, before bowing once more to Gornuk. In response Gornuk murmured, “May your gold ever flow, Heir Potter-Black.”

With that Harry followed the guard, now named Griphook, back through the maze of hallways and entered the lobby, although he swore it was a different door than that which they exited from. Griphook stayed with him until he was in line at the Exchange counter at which point he murmured the same sentence as Gornuk, leaving off the ‘Heir Potter-Black’ part, most likely to be discreet. Harry obligingly bowed once more before he was left alone. He shrunk into himself slightly when those around him stared at him in open curiosity or amazement. Thankfully, the line moved rather quickly and he soon received a leather coin purse as well as a stack of £20 notes. He gave a quick bow to the teller and pocketed each item before leaving the bank.

Once back in the alley he looked around once more with only question; where to start?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are not interested in how I decided on the vault contents, feel free to ignore this! If you google the average cost to raise a child, it is currently at $233,610 for a middle-class American child for 17 years. Using a conversion site (https://www.beyondhogwarts.com/cgi-bin/gringotts.cgi) this equates to 48,570 galleons or 2,857 every year. Considering that James was raised rather spoiled, I assumed he would want his son to have similar access to money, hence why it is 4,000 galleons deposited every year for child care. Other than that, I hope that this chapter doesn’t seem overly contrived so that Harry never had to speak. I tried to make each instance appear logical so that there isn’t too much of an ‘ex machina’ feel.


	6. Time to Shop

Harry quickly found another out of the way spot next to the bank so he could look over his supplies list and decide where to start so he completed his shopping with the most efficiency. His battered watch, that he was only allowed due to the fact Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia wanted him on time to serve them, showed that he spent 40 minutes within the bank. This left him with a little over five hours to complete what he needed. Hopefully, he could gather the miscellaneous supplies in under two hours, leaving him plenty of time to explore the book store, return any extra galleons, and further study the community he was now in.

As he looked over his list, he realized that his first destination was rather obvious. With the number of supplies and different shops he had to visit he would end up with a large number of bags. It was almost a forgone conclusion that he would be unable to carry all of them. No, he needed something to carry his purchases in. With that in mind he pulled out his map and followed the newest line to the shop that sold trunks.

The shop was quite crowded, the three employees appearing rather ragged as they tried to keep up with the questions and orders. One employee, a rather nondescript man with brown hair and blue eyes, was walking among the customers, answering questions and doing his best to make sales. A second employee, an older teen, was standing behind a desk, taking orders and payments while handing over what appeared to be a claim number. A third employee, an older heavier set man that thankfully did not look similar to Uncle Vernon, occasionally came out from a back room, probably a workshop, with the completed trunks and delivered them to the customer. However, the main thing that caught Harry’s eye were the order forms that everyone was using so that they did not have to list off everything they wanted, allowing the process to go much faster and making Harry’s task easier.

He unobtrusively grabbed one of the order forms from a table beside the entrance and looked over the options. The first section was a list of their trunks, their features, and starting price. At the top was the ‘basic Hogwarts’ student’ trunk that contained three compartments; clothing, potion supplies, and school supplies. Next down was the ‘Ravenclaw’ trunk which also contained a library compartment that held 50 books at its most basic but could be upgraded to hold up to 200. A side note stated that for larger library compartments a specialized trunk was required. Below that was the ‘advanced Hogwarts’ student’ trunk that appeared to be much larger than the other two. It contained five compartments; clothing, potion supplies, a library compartment for up to 100 books, school supplies, and a personal supplies compartment.

Below the Hogwarts trunks were those that appeared to be the more ‘adult’ trunks, including basic travel trunks, the specialized library trunks, Potion Master trunks that included their own brewing space as well as potion storage, and even those that could be used as a basic living space.

The more advanced trunks really set Harry’s mind off. How could a trunk act as an apartment? Somehow, the space inside had to be expanded past the exterior dimensions. Harry had no idea how to even think about accomplishing such a feat, but if the magical world could then Harry truly had much to learn. He assumed that even the basic trunks had this magical expansion because every trunk in the shop appeared to be of about equal size, no matter what features they contained.

Further down the form were a list of different charms that were available to place on the trunk. The list was long and most appeared fairly self-explanatory; shrinking/enlargement charm, fire resistance, water resistance (fully waterproof was extra), stain resistant and self-cleaning, feather light charm, strengthening charm, notice-me-not charm, and so on. The only one that appeared slightly confusing was the ‘muggle-repellant’ charm. What exactly were muggles? The phrase itself, ‘muggle-repellant’, reminded him of bug repellant that Aunt Petunia made sure Dudley wore in the summers to avoid the mosquitoes as her precious son played outside.

Deciding to question it later, his eyes moved lower down the form. The next section was dedicated to security measures. They seemed to range from a simple locking charm to blood and password protection. It also contained a sub-category labeled ‘jinxes’ which appeared to affect anyone that tried to open the trunk without the proper clearance. Harry thought the ‘color-changing’ jinx was interesting. While it wasn’t aggressive in anyway it would allow the ability to detect the would-be thief. There were stinging jinxes, levels 1-3, with a note stating that anything above a three was illegal if the trunk was kept in a public location without special Ministry permission. At the very bottom of the security section was a list of what was permitted on trunks that students took to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to ensure no true harm came to any of the students but noted that parents could add on their own protections as long as they caused no harm to the recipient.

The lower part of the form was much less interesting as it only involved the aesthetics of the trunk; color, material, embellishments and such. Harry knew that he would need one of the trunks with a library compartment since he planned on purchasing a large number of books before the day was out. Doing some quick calculations in his mind Harry decided he could easily afford the advanced student trunk along with a number of the charms and protections that he was interested in. With that in mind he grabbed a quill that had its own ink like the one in the bank and began filling in the little checkboxes for what he wanted.

Harry selected the advanced Hogwarts’ student trunk along with the shrinking/enlargement charm, notice-me-not charm, fire, water, and stain resistance, and feather light charm. For security he added the charms to protect against basic unlocking spells, the color-changing jinx, the level 2 stinging jinx, and blood protection. Harry could heal his finger so easily that a little nick was of no concern. As for the color, he went with a simple, unremarkable black with silver for the metal embellishments. His only stumbling point was the section for adding initials to the trunk. If he was as famous as the professor seemed to think than there was a large chance that HJP would be recognized by the employees. Finally, he went with HPB for his newly discovered last name since his Hogwarts letter only addressed him as Potter, not Potter-Black.

When Harry was done, he looked up to find what appeared to be a non-magical family entering the shop with clear looks of wonder and amazement. The boy who appeared to be Harry’s own age was holding his own letter. It would seem that he was not the only one that was new to the magical world but that begged the question of why some magicals seemed to have grown up in this world while others are not inducted until they are 11 and presumably invited to Hogwarts or potentially another magical school.

The clerk seemed to immediately notice the lost look on their faces and quickly came up to them to explain all about the different trunks, how the different charms worked and things of that nature. Recognizing a great opportunity when he saw one, Harry moved off to the side of the family and listened attentively, hoping that some of his own questions would be answered. He learned that the shrinking charm allowed the trunk to be shrunk with the tap of a wand on a special rune (note to self, look up runes) and was especially useful for students that lived in a muggle household where they were not allowed to use magic until they were of age. Those from magical families could have a parent shrink or enlarge their trunk for them, but muggleborns did not have the same ability; hence the charm.

That also gave Harry the clue he needed to understand what a ‘muggle’ was. Contextual evidence suggested that muggle was equivalent to non-magical. Muggleborn was also an interesting term. A magical being born from two non-magical parents? That begged the question, where did the magic come from? Growing up, he knew that he was unique, that others around him didn’t display the abilities that he had. He had thought to be alone in his abilities until this morning. With a larger community this opened up many more possibilities. Could there be a kind of magical gene that was passed from parent to child? If it was a recessive trait, requiring two alleles, that would explain the existence of muggleborns. Even then, there was only a 25% chance that non-magicals, muggles, would successfully have a magical child. The chances would be even lower if there were multiple genes all required to successfully have magic. It would be an interesting area of study, but Harry pushed it to the side for the moment to concentrate back on the family and the clerk.

At the moment he was explaining that the muggle-repelling charm worked similar to the ward that was around the entrance to Diagon Alley, which made it so that muggles merely looked passed the building, barely aware of anything being there in the first place. Instead of being completely invisible it simply made muggles take no notice of the object in question. Immediately, Harry checked off that box as well. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon couldn’t confiscate and destroy that which they weren’t aware of. It would probably be his only protection for his magical items.

He listened a little longer before deciding he had heard enough and took his completed form to stand in line to pay. At the counter, the clerk took his form, quickly looking it over and adding up the price, totaling to 78 galleons. As Harry counted out 78 of the golden coins, he was thinking that there had to be a better way than this. Potentially, next time he could try to summon the specific number of coins to his hand. Although, he wasn’t sure about performing magic in front of others. Occasionally he would see one of the adults performing some magical feat, but none of the children were doing the same. In the end, he resigned himself to doing it the long way. Once the money was handed over, the clerk handed him a receipt and a claim number, telling him there was currently a thirty-minute wait and that his claim ticket would vibrate when his trunk was ready to be picked up. Harry nodded in understanding and exited the shop, determined to not waste that time just standing around.

The shop next door was an apothecary and according to his list he would need to pick up the ‘first-year potions pack’. Considering that there was only one item, Harry decided he should be able to easily carry it around with him until his trunk was available. Walking through the door he had to stop his nose from wrinkling at the rather pungent smell that came from inside. Upon further examination the source was quite clear as a number of animal and plant parts were strewn throughout the store; dried and in bins or floating in an unnamed liquid within a jar. There was also a wall of small vials, which were apparently completed potions.

Harry took a deep breath, through his mouth, and decided that this was nothing different than shopping at the grocer’s for dinner ingredients; instead of soup, a potion was the final product. Stacked neatly along the wall next to the door were stacks of containers with signs above them listing ‘Hogwarts’ Student Potion Kits’ and then years 1-7 above the appropriate stack. That was rather convenient, and Harry hoped the rest of the shops would make it as simple as it would be a huge time saver. With a little thought on the prices, he decided to grab two of the first-year kits and one of the second year’s since having extra would allow him to experiment and practice on his own. He quickly payed and ignored the worker’s laugh and comment about him being a budding Potion’s Master. With only five minutes having gone by and one relatively light bag Harry moved on to the next store.

The neighboring store was also a potion supplies store, providing equipment instead of ingredients like the apothecary. However, considering that a cauldron was on his list, and the window display showed that they were by no means small, Harry decided to pass this store and come back to it once he could place the cauldron into his feather-light trunk. The shop across the street was Scribbulus Writing Instruments where he would have to pick up parchment, ink, and quills. This shop also contained a starter pack that most students found proficient as well as a ‘Ravenclaw’ starter pack which offered a larger supply of parchment and ink. He wasn’t sure what a Ravenclaw was, but between the Ravenclaw trunk with a library and now this Ravenclaw pack, it seemed like a designation for those that liked to read, write, and/or study in some way. He also noticed the complete lack of regular paper, pens, pencils, binders, and spiral notebooks. There was a shelf of notebooks that appeared to be leather bound and contained blank parchment within. Most likely they were used as diaries, sketch books, or potentially journals. His letter stated that only loose parchment was required, but how then did students organize their notes for classes? Individual papers could be lost so easily. Even the idea was mildly horrifying to Harry. He only purchased the basic pack and was determined to pick up a number of spiral notebooks, pencils, and pens before he left for school. Perhaps he would be able to find one of the fancy calligraphy pens that mimicked using a quill. Surely that would be much easier than trying to write with an actual quill that was repeatedly dipped in ink.

Harry left the shop slightly annoyed and determinedly moved onto the next shop refusing to think more on how far behind this community seemed to be in at least for this one manner. The next shop seemed to be focused on gardening, or herbology as the sign claimed. The only thing he was required to grab were a pair of leather gloves. This was quickly accomplished, and he was exiting to the main alley once more. He found a spot against the shop where he wasn’t in the way and looked over his supply list to decide on his next stop. All that was left were uniforms, several supplies for potions which were all in one shop, a telescope, a wand, and an optional pet. He didn’t have to think about it before mentally crossing off the pet option. He would never subject an innocent animal to the cruelties of his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. They were more than likely as not to kill it the moment he walked through the door, or it would be taken and given to their precious Diddykins.

Before he could decide on his next location, he felt something vibrating in his pocket and quickly pulled out the claim ticket. The walk back to the shop was short since he did not venture too far, and he was easily able to hand over his claim ticket to receive his brand-new trunk. The older employee first explained to him how to cycle between the different compartments, which involved tapping on different runes before opening the lid, and then how to use his blood to set the lock but said he could do it later if he didn’t want to complete that step immediately. Deciding that he didn’t want to try to cut and heal his finger inconspicuously throughout the rest of the day he simply nodded and took the trunk outside. It was indeed incredibly light, and Harry hoped it would stay that way as he put his supplies within.

Quickly finding an empty spot to place his trunk, Harry set about putting his supplies into their proper compartments and was pleased with how much room was still available. He tapped the rune in the corner to shrink the trunk but frowned when nothing happened. Next, he tried pushing a bit of his magic to his finger and then tapped the rune once more. This time the trunk quickly shrank down to the size of a matchbox which Harry easily stored in his pocket. As he walked to the potion’s supply store, Potage’s Cauldron Shop, he considered getting a chain that he could carry his trunk on, as a necklace. It would probably be safer if he kept it on him instead of leaving it laying around, either at the Dursleys or at Hogwarts.

At the cauldron shop he purchased his cauldron, potion phials, scales, a potion tool kit that included a variety of knives, stirring rods and other assorted necessities, as well as a pair of protective gloves that were not to be mixed up with those for his herbology class. One parent in the shop was giving their child a dire warning of what could happen if they used their herbology gloves covered in various magical plant essences to handle and prepare potions ingredients. Harry walked away from that conversation determined to label the gloves and find a way to _never_ confuse them.

He ended up spending more galleons at the shop than his letter said was necessary because he ended up getting better quality than the cheapest Hogwarts packs that they had put together. He had the money available and since he didn’t know what substandard supplies would do when making potions, he figured it was safer to buy the slightly more expensive options. Aunt Petunia always scorned cheaper pots and pans, saying that they would ruin her wonderful cooking. Harry was unsure what cooking she meant but appreciated the quality cookware none the less.

The next store only took a couple minutes of his time as all he had to purchase was mid-range telescope. According to his list, all that was left were his uniform, wand, and books. Since he didn’t know if the uniforms would be premade and he simply had to select his size, or if an actual seamstress was involved, he decided to take care of his uniform first. With what he had already observed of the magical community thus far, he was rather leaning towards the seamstress theory. It again begged the question of why he wasn’t seeing evidence of mass production. Surely the use of magic could have taken the place of machines in the non-magical world to quickly produce large quantities of products.

As he walked into the clothing store, Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, his fears were realized. The front of the store was sparse, containing a few robes of different styles that appeared to be more show pieces that could be selected and then made to the customers specifications. Along one wall was a number of panels, each showing different design options. One was a color palette that Harry assumed were the different possibilities for robe colors. Another contained different embroidery patterns that seemed to feature on the edge of many of the show robes.

His observations were interrupted by a voice questioning from farther back in the shop, “Another one for Hogwarts, deary?”

Harry walked towards the back of the shop, to an area that was curtained off, and found an older woman with grey hair standing with a pile of black fabric at her feet. He idly thought that she was the picture of a kind, old grandmother. When she glanced at him, Harry flashed his Hogwarts letter in reply.

She smiled kindly at him and began talking away even while pinning fabric to a young girl on a round dais that appeared to also be getting her Hogwarts uniform. The girl was a redhead and smiled shyly at him as she tried to hold perfect still. Unsure what to do with the positive interaction Harry just nodded his head once in a form of greeting before looking at the floor as he listened to the older woman talk.

“That seems to be all my shop has been getting today! I suppose it is that time of the year though. By Merlin, I would even say that this is the first time today that I don’t have a line of customers waiting to be fitted. With it being lunch time and all, I get a bit of a respite before it’s chaos once more! Then again, I’m still behind on finishing the orders from this morning. That girl sure chose the worst day to not come into work. Third time now too. If she doesn’t have an excuse this time, I am going to have to see about getting some better help around here. Ah, but enough about an old woman’s problems. I’m sure this is your first time in my humble shop as I’m sure I would have remembered such a handsome young boy as yourself. Especially those eyes! Well, since it’s your first time here I will go over the process for you, dear. First thing I will do is take your measurements and pin up an example robe to use as a guide for your actual robes. From there, since it is so busy and orders are getting backed up, I will have you fill out a form of everything that you want to purchase today. Since you are purchasing your Hogwarts uniform you have relatively few choices to choose from; mainly only fabric type and the charms that can be placed on the robes. You will have to pay half of the price now and then the other half when your order is complete, which at the moment will be about two hours. I would suggest you eat lunch and finish up your other shopping, then return here for you purchases.”

Harry blinked in shock at the flood of chatter mixed in with helpful information that he was just exposed to. By the time she completed her very own monologue, the girl was finished and had moved to the side to fill out the aforementioned form. Harry was gestured forward to the dais and he stood completely stiff as first a tape measure zoomed around him while a floating quill and parchment recorded all of the different measurements, and wasn’t that a marvel to see, and then as Madam Malkin began to pin together a basic robe around him. Having another person stand so close and constantly touch him was putting him on edge. Positive touch was never a part of his life and it took everything he had to stay motionless as the seamstress worked.

She continued to chatter away about different gossip that she had heard from the various customers that morning, although it seemed to mostly pertain to different families that had come in for their Hogwarts’ robes. Unfortunately, none of it was very interesting and contained no real knowledge that Harry would find useful. Although, once he knew more about this world and what to look for, the shop could prove a valuable source of information.

Thankfully, she finished rather quickly, and Harry was able to move back to a safe distance while she fetched a form for him to fill out. It did not take him long for him to select seven work robes, the letter’s suggestion of only three seemed ridiculous, two winter cloaks in case something happened to one of them, a hat, and decided to purchase five pairs of black slacks as well. He looked over the prices for their other regular clothing but decided that he could purchase it cheaper in the non-magical world. He went with the standard cloth type as he truly didn’t care about the cloth as he was used to Dudley’s castoffs and wouldn’t even know what to look for had he chosen otherwise. Harry also looked over the few charms that were available and selected those for stain, fire, and water resistance to be applied to all of his items. The final touch was to add a name for the order and with a little thought he wrote ‘James’. With that finished he handed over his form to Madam Malkin and payed for the first half of his order.

His final shop to go to before he could visit the bookstore was Ollivanders Wand Shop. It was a rather rundown building for somewhere he assumed had good business as it was the only place within Diagon Alley to purchase a wand, something that seemed to be required, at least for those who went to Hogwarts. The interior of the shop was just as bleak as the exterior with its dust motes glittering in the dim light and most of the shop taken up with a multitude of shelves containing poorly stacked boxes.

“Ah, Mr. Potter, I have been expecting you,” came a soft voice from behind him, causing Harry to jump and spin around, heart beating wildly as he fought to not react any further. In the corner of the shop was a rather creepy old man that seemed to share the same crazy white hair as Albert Einstein and light blue eyes. He was staring at Harry, specifically his forehead, and Harry resisted moving or twitching under the piercing gaze.

After a few moments the man seemed to have his fill of staring and moved back behind the counter while continuing to speak in that slow, soft voice.

“Oh yes, I have been eagerly waiting for you to come to my shop, Mr. Potter. You see, I remember every wand I ever sold, even your parents,” and as if to prove his point he spouted off the specific wands his parents carried, “your mother received a rather swishy willow wand, ten and a quarter inches long, that promised to be good in charms. She went on to be considered a bit of a charms prodigy of course. A mahogany wand chose your father and was slightly longer at eleven inches. That wand was excellent for transfiguration and James Potter was rather adept in the art. I am quite eager to see which wand will choose you Mr. Potter. After that Halloween night you defeated the owner of another of my wands, I knew that your own wand would be quite interesting. Now, let’s get started.”

Harry had trouble focusing after the wand maker mentioned his parents having wands. They were magical! Just like he was! He had to contain the wide grin that wanted to break out at learning this new information about his parents. He had doubted the validity of Aunt Petunia’s claims of his parents being a drunk and a whore on the basis that most of the things the Dursleys said were lies. Harry was curious, however, about the reference to ‘that Halloween night’. Every Halloween that he could remember was spent locked in his cupboard, which is how he spent the majority of every holiday at the Dursley household. The only logical conclusion was that it had to have been when he was still with his parents, but he only spent two Halloweens with him, one just a few months old and the other a little over a year. At that age he didn’t understand how he could have defeated another magic user. However, a riddle presented itself. Halloween, October 31st, was the day that his parents died and that night he was dropped off on the Dursley’s doorstop and now he was being told that he supposedly defeated someone on Halloween. It was all very suspicious, in his mind.

Eventually the crazy wand maker came back from the depths of the shops carrying a stack of boxes that looked like they might tip over at the slightest breeze. The stack was set down on the counter and Harry stared curiously at the first wand that was revealed.

“Birch and dragon heart strings, 11 and half inches, a durable wand that can serve many purposes.” The wand was a lighter brown with a thicker end narrowing to a finer point on the other side. Harry was pleasantly surprised by the craftsmanship of the wand. It wasn’t a plain, circular, smooth length like a wooden dowel, but instead was lightly curvy with small details etched into the wood to make it an artistic piece of work.

“Well, go on. Give it a wave. You won’t know if it’s your wand without picking it up.”

Harry stopped his observations and reached out to pick up the wand as ordered. The instant his fingers wrapped around the length he jerked back as if burned. The wand felt like a layer of oil sliding across his hand. The sensation was so disgusting that he couldn’t help his reaction, but now he worried that he had offended or angered the wand maker. Carefully Harry glanced up at the man to look for his reaction while keeping his head lowered just in case. Despite his fears the man simply closed that box, placed it to the side, and opened the next one.

“No, that wasn’t it. Try this one, walnut and unicorn hair, 10 and three quarters inches, perfect for offensive spells.”

He reluctantly reached out for the newest wand with much the same result, although this time the wand felt ice cold when he touched it. And so began a half hour of a constant stream of wands, each introduced with their wood, core, and length as well as some trivia about what they would be good for or their flexibility. Each one Harry had a negative reaction to. Some felt the same as that first wand, although the oiliness of the feeling changed between different wands, while others were too cold, burned, or simply felt like a normal stick in his hand. One wand even felt like it was trying to attack his own magic before his fingers even closed around the wooden length. Despite this Ollivander just appeared to be more and more excited as time went on and wands were discarded to the side.

“I knew you would be a tricky customer, Mr. Potter, but don’t lose hope, I have never failed to pair a wand to their proper owner.” He looked back into the shop with a look of contemplation on his face, “Maybe… could he be the one? But the brother wand, for him to be destined for this one? Hmm, perhaps…” he mumbled to himself as he moved to a back corner of the shop, bringing with him a single wand box. Harry thought he was carrying it with almost a sense of reverence, something that made him nervous about what was within.

“Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. A supple wand.” Ollivander held it out with an eager expression that did not lessen his nerves as he cautiously picked up the dark brown length. The sensation was different than all of the previous wands, but still not pleasant. The best description he could find was that it felt like the wand stuck a straw in his magical core and was forcefully sucking his magic up and out into the wand. He was used to the unpleasant sensations by now and managed to actually pick up the wand from its box. Immediately upon holding it bright gold sparks shot from the tip and Ollivander grinned triumphantly.

“Very good! I knew you would have a unique wand!”

Harry sat the wand back in its box as politely as possible while placing a pleased expression on his face despite the confusion he was feeling on the inside. That was not what he was expecting of his wand. Surely that sensation was not normal, how would anyone be able to stand it? He would purchase the wand since it was required by the school, but he would not touch it unless absolutely required. Besides, he could use his magic just fine without a wand so there was really no need to subject himself to that horrible sucking sensation more than necessary. He paid the required seven galleons before quickly escaping the store and heading eagerly to the bookstore, only pausing briefly to carelessly throw the wand box into his trunk.

Upon entering the bookstore Harry took a deep breath, greatly enjoying the scent of new books, only second to that of old books. Right at the front of the shop were stacks of prepackaged books with signs denoting which Hogwarts year they were for. Harry happily picked out one of the first-year packages and scanned the titles briefly to ensure that all those on his list were present. Pleased that he wouldn’t have to waste time searching for his school books, Harry quickly went to the counter and paid for the books so he could store them in his trunk and wouldn’t have to worry about carrying them through the store as he shopped for others.

As he stood in line to pay, he went over what he needed to find first before exploring other subjects. At the top of his list were history books, both older and modern history, politics, government, since he didn’t appear to be the only person newly introduced to this world perhaps he could find a kind of introductory book, and then books that expanded on the course subjects he could define from his school list; transfiguration, potions, defense/offense, and herbology. He was particularly interested in potions just from the different ingredient he had to buy. Beyond that he wanted to look for books on magic itself, perhaps the different types, uses, classifications and such.

After he payed he checked the time and saw it was now approaching one in the afternoon, giving him another three hours until the professor would be back to escort him home. He still had to pick up his uniform and return the extra galleons to the bank, along with all of the receipts he had been collecting for each of his purchases. He decided that he had to be in line to purchase his books by 2:45, giving him an hour to complete his other tasks. With that decided, Harry plunged into the shelves, eagerly exploring all that they had to offer.

By the end of his allotted time Harry had gathered nearly 30 books on a wide range of subjects. He knew of course that he ran the risk of some of them being less that useful since he didn’t know what to look for when it pertained to magical knowledge, but he needed a place to start so he chose as best as he could. He even picked up a book of fairy tales, _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_ , figuring that he should know something that magical children grew up with if he wanted to fit in.

While in what he determined to be the kid section of the store he did notice a large series of books; _Harry Potter and his Magical Adventures_. To say he was surprised would have been an understatement. After breaking through his shock, Harry quickly picked up a book and saw a drawing of himself slaying a large dragon. What disturbed him the most, though, was the rather accurate depiction of himself, same green eyes, same messy black hair, same lightning bolt scar. However, the book version did appear much taller and filled out, containing muscles that he was sure no 11-year-old could have managed. Every book contained some adventure that he supposedly went on, defeating magical beasts or evil wizard to save the world and occasionally the damsel in distress. He honestly didn’t know how to react to these books. They were a clear sign that he was indeed famous in this world, but he still wasn’t sure why. As tempting as it was to open a few of the history books for answers, Harry didn’t want to waste his limited time getting caught up in a book, so was determined to wait until he returned to his cupboard to solve this mystery.

It was 3 o’clock by time he left the bookstore and made his way back to Madam Malkin’s to pick up his uniform and pay the second half of the fee. The shop was indeed much busier, but he was able to get in and out in under 15 minutes and made his way back to Gringotts Bank to turn in the receipts and deposit most of the extra galleons into his account. Upon entering the bank, he looked around until he found a familiar guard standing nearby. As he approached, he hoped that Griphook would not be annoyed by a second interruption and would help him as much as before. Once he was near the goblin and gained his attention Harry bowed carefully, holding his breath nervously.

“Well met, young one. You returned much sooner than I would have thought,” greeted Griphook in a friendlier voice than he had used the first time they had interacted.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief as his muscles relaxed at the non-angry words. Still aware that the goblin’s mood could change at any time, especially if he took too long to answer the implied question, Harry pulled out the stack or receipts from his pockets and showed them to Griphook.

“Here to supply proof of your purchases, I see,” he paused as Harry also pulled out his money pouch, which he had already emptied of the 50 galleons he planned to keep on him, and showed that to him as well, “and to deposit the extra money you withdrew. Very well, Manager Gornuk is available currently, so follow me.”

The trip back to the office was much less confusing the second time as he knew where he was being led this time around. The trip also felt much shorter as they were soon being bid to enter the office once more. Gornuk looked surprised to see Harry so soon after their last meeting but after he bowed to the older goblin, he received the same greeting that Griphook gave. Without hesitation Harry handed over the receipts for his purchases as well as the pouch of galleons and sat on the chair in front of the desk.

The office was silent as Gornuk went through the receipts, marking numbers on a separate ledger, and then placing the pouch of galleons in a bowl that somehow released a piece of parchment with the number of galleons the pouch contained. The contraption fascinated Harry and he wished he could study it to figure out how it worked. Perhaps, when he was older, he would be able to understand the magic behind it. It also made sense that something would be developed so that the goblins would not have to count out the coins one by one.

“Everything seems to be in order, Heir Potter-Black. If that is all then you are free to leave. If you have any other questions or concerns about your account throughout the year feel free to owl me a letter. Simply address it to Account Manager Gornuk and it will find its way to my desk.”

Harry rose and bowed to the goblin, who stated the same phrase as last time, which he was sure was a traditional goblin form of ‘good bye’. Griphook escorted him back to the lobby and they parted in the same way.

He glanced at his watch and saw he had 15 minutes to return to the spot he was dropped off at and quickly made his way down the alley. He wanted to be early in case the professor came back early. The man appeared quite angry that morning and he did not want to be punished for making the professor wait. Thankfully, the little alcove was empty and Harry leaned against the wall to calmly wait, entertaining himself by watching the people walk by him. After a few minutes of people watching he stood straight as he remembered that he had changed his clothes when he first came to the alley. He knew that Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would burn his clothes before punishing him for acting ‘above his station’ if he dared to step in the house in his current outfit. Quickly, he focused on his magic and urged it to undo what he did the first time, pleased yet uncomfortable as his clothes became the oversized castoffs once more.

Harry only had to wait a few minutes more before right at 4 o’clock the professor appeared in the alley, wearing the same black cloak that billowed back as he walked towards the alcove Harry was waiting in. He was relieved to note that the professor appeared to be much less angry than he was that morning although he was still sneering lightly at those around him.

The professor looked him over quickly and the sneer deepened but he asked in a mostly neutral voice, “Did you purchase everything on your list, Mr. Potter?”

Harry quickly pulled out his shrunken trunk from his pocket to show that he did and to explain why he wasn’t carrying any bags. The response seemed to be enough for the professor as he nodded sharply before continuing, “Very well, I will be apparating you back to your house then.”

This was his only warning before the professor grabbed onto him once more and the world twisted nauseatingly before they landed in the same park they had departed from that morning.

“One more thing before I leave, Mr. Potter. Here is your ticket for the train that will take you to Hogwarts on September 1st. It leaves promptly at 11 o’clock in the morning from King’s Cross Station. Do not be late or you will be left behind and a professor will _not_ be sent to fetch you.”

Harry gingerly took the ticket from the professor while trying to figure out how to get to the platform in a month’s time. The chances of Uncle Vernon driving him were practically in the negatives.

“I assume you are capable of walking back to your house without getting into trouble so I will be leaving you here.” With that rather sarcastic remark the professor disappeared with a pop, leaving Harry to make his way back to the Dursley’s.

Even as he was punished that night, Harry felt lighter than ever before. Once he was shoved into his cupboard that night, he would be able to read about the new world he was introduced to and learn more about the magic inside of him. And soon, he would be going to school, a boarding school, far away from the Dursley’s. Truly, Harry couldn’t help the smile that formed as he covered his head and curled up tighter under the heavy blows landing on his exposed flesh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important AN: Hello everyone. First off, the responses I have been getting to this story have been phenomenal, so I want to thank everyone that has read, favorited, and followed this story. A special thanks to everyone who have left reviews. As for the important message, I have been debating on whether or not to include Voldemort in this story. Originally, my plan was to focus primarily on Harry and Severus as he overcomes all that the Dursleys have done to him so I am unsure what to do with the Voldemort problem. Please leave a review for which you would prefer; a) Voldemort died back on Halloween and is now dead and gone, b) Voldemort is a good guy and helps Harry, c) Voldemort stays the same as in canon. I am also opening a poll on my profile on fanfiction.net (pen name Crimson Rhage) for everyone to vote on if you would prefer to do so there. I will not promise to go with the popular vote but it will help give me an idea of what most people would like to see. Thanks for reading and I hope you all continue to enjoy this story!


	7. A Snape Interlude

Severus Snape sat on his couch in the Hogwarts’ dungeons with a tumbler of fire whiskey after his long day. A day that did not go anywhere near planned. He had been working on his latest potion for the last several months, since the little dunderheads he was forced to teach went home for the summer. With all his responsibilities during the school year he was unable to experiment with his potions, which was his true passion. If it wasn’t for his Slytherins, the gratitude he felt for the Headmaster would have long ago dried up and he would have left this blasted job.

Still, it was the summer and he was able to spend all his time working with his potions. This particular summer he had set his sights on developing a pain reliever that could be administered with Skele-grow. Normally the two potions had a very negative effect when they interacted within the body, causing more pain instead of reducing it. Poppy had been complaining that she could not help the children under her care while healing their broken bones. Severus could care less for the idiot Gryffindors that injured themselves through their own rash actions. Perhaps the pain would serve as a lesson, although he doubted they would ever learn it. He took this potion on for those children that were harmed by someone else, for those who were hurt and abused and did not deserve to be in any more pain than they already were.

He had been experimenting with the potion for over two months now trying to get a workable recipe. It was a complicated and delicate potion which took two days to brew. He had only gotten a few hours of sleep the night before between brewing steps and was up early that morning to continue on his most recent attempt. Everything had been working perfectly and he came to one of the most difficult steps, ones that were time sensitive and could not be put in stasis. He had gotten further than ever before, and he knew if he could get through the next stage he would have a working potion.

Of course, this was the exact moment that Albus bloody Dumbledore decided to send him a patronus saying that something most urgent had come up and that Severus was needed immediately in the Headmaster’s office with no delay. He looked at his potion in despair, knowing he needed 45 minutes to complete the current stage before he could put the potion in stasis. Angrily he turned off the fire and stormed up to the Headmaster’s office, swearing that if the world wasn’t ending he would wrap that old man’s beard around his neck and pull.

When he found out that he was called away from his work just because _Harry Potter_ decided to play a prank, he wanted to murder both the Headmaster and the Potter boy. No doubt the brat was trying to get the school to give him special treatment as they begged him to attend. He could not believe he ruined all of his work and his potions ingredients, some of which were quite expensive, just because Dumbledore’s idea of an emergency was a bloody prank by the Brat-Who-Lived.

He of course protested when Dumbledore asked him to go to Potter’s house and straighten up this misunderstanding before taking him to Diagon Alley for his supplies. When asked why Minerva was not doing so, she would be his Head of House no doubt, he was given some weak excuse about her having too much paperwork to complete before the school started up once more. In the end, he gave into the man’s demands that were phrased as polite requests.

Severus wanted to murder the old fool for forcing him into these situations. Wasn’t it bad enough that he would have to teach the brat for the next five years, as he was sure the boy would never be able to get into his NEWT class? Why did he have to interrupt his last free summer for such an odious task? Certainly anyone else would have been better to go cater to the spoiled Boy-Who-Lived, even Hagrid for Merlin’s sake.

His thoughts kept up with the same theme as he made his way out of the castle and grounds so he could apparate to Little Whinging and the boy’s house. The neighborhood he landed in was so disgustingly normal and muggle, with every house identical to the one next to it and all containing perfectly green lawns with their white picket fence. While it wasn’t the huge manor that he imagined the brat growing up in, like the one his godson grew up in, it was still a substantial improvement over the house he himself was raised in.

Grudgingly he went to knock on the door, knowing that the sooner he got this over with the sooner he would be able to get back to his potions. He received his first look at the boy when he answered the door. The brat had the same unruly black hair and glasses as his odious father, but Severus faltered for just an instant when he saw Lily green eyes behind those glasses. When he requested Potter’s guardian, the boy ran off without a single word or offer to come into the house. Of course, the eleven-year-old had no manners.

At least he did not have to wait long until he heard lumbering footsteps make their way towards the door. The man that came out of the room that Potter had disappeared in was easily the widest muggle Severus had ever seen. If this was the role model that Potter grew up with than he had more to worry about than he had originally thought. The only miracle he supposed was that the brat wasn’t already the size of his uncle.

The following conversation confirmed his suspicions. Potter’s guardian, Vernon Dursley, had no knowledge of the brat receiving his Hogwarts’ letter. The man said he thought the letters were coming late that year. When he yelled at the brat and told him he would receive no special treatment Severus couldn’t help his amusement. He doubted anyone had ever yelled at the boy before, so he would cherish the memory. Potter stayed silent through the full thing, probably pouting at his plan failing.

The trip to Diagon Alley was simple and Severus was quick to pass over the things that the headmaster had given him. He did wonder why the headmaster had Potter’s Grongotts’ key instead of the boy’s guardians. At least the boy or his family were unable to squander the whole fortune before he even got to Hogwarts that way. With a few instructions and a glamour, he left to return back to his potions. He would have enough time to get the potion started and the first stage complete before he had to collect the brat.

He spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing into his potions and when he went to collect the boy he was in a much better mood. Looking back, he regretted leaving Potter alone to shop. No matter what, he was still an eleven-year-old child and should not have been left to fend for himself. He was also quite harsh with the child, more so than he would have normally been, even with the annoying Potter brat.

Severus was relieved when he found the child in the same spot he left him with no obvious damage. Dumbledore would not have been pleased to learn his precious hero was injured while Severus left him alone in Diagon Alley. When he saw the child with no obvious purchases anger began to stir again, but he reserved judgement. A single question revealed the boy’s shrunken trunk, a rather ingenious idea as loath as he was to admit it. He didn’t bother to confirm the purchases, if something was forgotten than Potter would just have to deal with it and learn to be more responsible in the future.

One last trip to the odious Privet Drive and then he was able to return to his student free summer and potions experiments. Now sitting in his living room, he looked back on his experiences with the boy. Not once could he recall the child speaking. He assumed the brat was just throwing a fit like a three-year-old, just like holding their breath until they got what they wanted. He also noted the boy’s rather dismal clothing. He expected him to be dressed similar to the Malfoys or even what he remembered of Potter in school. Instead he was wearing hideous oversized muggle clothes that Severus thought were better served as rags or a fire starter than actual clothing. Clearly his guardians gave into whatever he wanted, even horrendous muggle styles.

Still, he was sure of one thing. The short visit with the Potter brat did not ease his fears about the newest school year. No, all it accomplished was making him even more unwilling to have to deal with the boy for the next seven years.


End file.
